


if i knew

by transbev



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Overdosing, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Alex, alex likes being called baby girl, never in detail really but still there, still a trans man tho!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transbev/pseuds/transbev
Summary: — i wouldn't have doneall the things that i have doneif i knew one day you'd come-In which Alexander fucks up, John cares about him more than humanly possible, and everything is okay in the end.





	

John knows.  
  
  
John knows when he walks into Alexander's apartment and glass shards from broken bottles scatter the floor, followed by a blood trail. When he smells the soot as soon as he steps in the doorway, when he finds Alex staring hazily into nothing, sitting on his bed.  
  
John knows.  
  
Johns knows from the distinct smell that follows him into the apartment, that he has to wash away in the shower as soon as he gets home. When he finds Alex in the kitchen at three in the morning, sprawled out on his floor with a cigarette in his hands, when he doesn't look up when John calls him, when he ignores John's constant texts and calls and messages.  
  
John knows.  
  
"Alex?" John speaks into the silence, his boyfriend laying across the couch with his head in his lap.  
  
"Mmm?" Alex hums back, distant as he stares up at the ceiling.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"What?" Alex asks, sitting up abruptly. "What do you mean, John? Of course I'm okay. Right as rain."  
  
"Alex, baby, please don't lie." John searches his eyes, for the truth, for a sign that he'll tell John what he already knows, that maybe he'll let himself open up. God knows John already has.  
  
"No, I'm fine. Serious."  
  
John sighs. "Okay." His fingers find the tangles in Alex's hair and he brushes them out, rubbing his temple absentmindedly as his brows furrow.  
  
A few minutes pass before he speaks again. "Alex, are you really -"  
  
"Hey, what's this? What's up with this, why are you so worried right now?"  
  
"Do you think I haven't noticed?"  
  
Alexander's face twists in confusion. "Noticed what?"  
  
"Alex, you know what I'm talking about, please just -"  
  
"What?" Alexander presses because he wants to see John's heart break, right?  
  
"You're - you're drinking and you're high all the time and you pass out in the kitchen with a bottle of wine on your chest and a joint in your hands and I'm just so fucking worried I don't know what to do you mean so much to me and I want to keep you healthy and living I don't want to see you - I don't want to watch you die." John speaks so fast, the words fall from his lips and he can't seem to stop, they tumble until they hang in the air and his heart's pounding brings him back to the present, back to Alexander.  
  
"I'm okay," is all Alexander says and that's not acceptable, he can't do this, John just poured his heart out and he's so fucking overcome with worry about him and he can't just -  
  
"Alexander, please, you can't just -"  
  
"Red," Alex calls and everything in the world seems to come to a stop.  
  
"Alex-"  
  
" _Red_ ," he spits and it's over. Alexander is no longer open, no longer readable, no longer trusting.  
  
"Okay, Alex. Red. Okay."  
  
-  
  
  
It's been two months and John just really can't fucking do this anymore.  
  
He's worrying himself sick, he's been to the doctor five times in two weeks, and Alexander doesn't even _notice_.  
  
John is beginning to think Alexander wouldn't notice if he left.  
  
"Hey, angel," John says and the name tastes sour in his mouth. Like it's gone bad. Like it shouldn't be there.  
  
Alexander is typing furiously at the keys on his laptop atop the kitchen table, and his eyes don't move as he murmurs, "Yeah, what's up, what's wrong," and it's not even a question, it's sounds almost like an automated response, recorded, like the kind you hear when you call the bank.  
  
"Hey, Alex, look. Alex. _¡Oye!_   _Alejandro_ , look. Listen to me." John's voice raises on the Spanish words, and it snaps Alexander out of his words.  
  
"What's wrong, John?"  
  
"We can't keep fucking ignoring it, Alexander."  
  
He sheepishly looks away from John's hard gaze. He can't - Alex can't do it, he could call red, he could, he could avoid it, avoid it until he ends up in the hospital, until he overdoses, until it's too late.  
  
"Please don't hate me," his voice is so soft, barely there, with so much _pain_  and John just breaks.  
  
"Why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why do you keep harming yourself? You're gonna take it too far - one day - and what the fuck will I do then, Alex? I can't do this anymore, I can't watch you wither away from the inside out, I won't do it anymore, I can't."  
  
"John- John, it's not - it's not like that," Alexander stops before he can say more because he's lying and he fucking _knows_  it. He knows he's hurting John, he knows he's hurting himself but that's the _point_. Sure, the high is nice, sure, the pain from his needle gives him a shock of pleasure, sure, when the vodka burns as it slides down his throat he enjoys it, but that's not why he _does it_. He had hoped John wouldn't notice, that John wouldn't catch on to the fact that he was slowly killing himself, hoped that John would just let it slide because they both smoke, they both drink, it's fine, he doesn't have a problem. He had hoped that he would die so slowly no one noticed. He just wants it over - he thought that would be the least painful thing for John, not like jumping off a building or taking pills when he goes to sleep and never waking up the next morning. He had hoped it would be painless.  
  
"Re-" he chokes out and the word gets caught in his throat as he finally looks up at John, faces him. (Because that's what men do and Alexander has tried so hard to fit into the cookie cutter shape cut out for men he couldn't handle it if he caught himself straying from that. He's a real man, and this is what real men do.)  
  
"I don't know what you want me to do."  
  
The words sear through the air and Alexander almost feels like he's been wounded. A stab to the chest, a hit to his ribs, a stomp on his heart.  
  
"You don't -"  
  
"No, Alex, we can't just cry and then console each other back to being comprehensive and then ignore it. That's how you're gonna fucking _die_. Do you not realise that? That's what you're doing, Alexander, you're killing yourself."  
  
And John almost seems angry and he can't handle that, John can't be angry, John can't hit him, John can't yell, John can't -  
  
"That's the _point_ ," he chokes out and the chant of _respira respira respira respira respira_  in his head is deafening.  
  
"Baby, you - are you - why didn't you tell me?" Because of course, John wanted to know, John wanted to _fix_ him, like a lost case and Alex knows he's wrong when he thinks that, because he knows John only wants what's best for him, but the sensible part of his brain is too quiet in this moment.  
  
"Because I didn't want you to notice! I'm tired of it, John, I'm tired of your pitiful looks and the therapists and the pills and the constant fucking drag and the weight on my back of trying to stay alive for you. I want to die and I can't because of _you_."  
  
"Alex, I -"  
  
"No. No. Stop. Red. Go."  
  
"Alex, please -"  
  
"I said _go_! _Red_! That means stop, John, stop. Red. Leave."  
  
And so John does.  
  
-  
  
John is at work and he gets a call from an unknown number who says _Are you John Laurens? Yes, Alexander is here and you're the only one on the emergency contact list. He's overdosed and is in the ICU right now._ And then suddenly everything is  _red,_ everything is  _spinning,_ everything is _Alex Alex Alex is Alex okay is Alex gonna make it what will I tell our friends how could I let this happen is Alex going to die_  and the last thought jars him, he can't think like that, he can't. Alex has to make it he has to he can't go he can't -  
  
"Can I see Alexander Hamilton where is he what room is he in is he going to be alright -"  
  
"Sir, slow down please. What's your name?" The person at the front desk says and John can't even fucking remember his name everything is _Alex Alex Alex Alex Alex Alex_  -  
  
"John. John Laurens."  
  
"Okay, Mr. Laurens, are you a family member?"  
  
"Please, I'm all he has, his parents are gone, they're gone, he doesn't have family, it's just me, please. Please, I have to see him."  
  
"Okay, sir, because you're not a family member you cannot visit Mr. Hamilton until," they check their watch and John is fucking bouncing on his heels and he can't _do this_ , "until 6 AM tomorrow as visiting hours have closed for the night."  
  
"No, you don't understand, I have to see him, I'm all he has, he hasn't got anyone else but me, his mom is dead and his father left and he doesn't have anybody nobody came with on the ship he doesn't have anyone but me please I have to go, I have to see him."  
  
"Sir, I'm sorry but you are not permitted to visit Mr. Hamilton until 6 o'clock tomorrow."  
  
"Fuck," John exhales. Okay, so he's gonna have to find out what room Alex is in for himself and he's gonna have to break in and can he get arrested for this? It doesn't even matter at this point, Alexander is dying, Alexander might not make it, and he needs to _see him_.  
  
"Can you tell me what room he's in so I know where to go  tomorrow?" John asks, like it's a real question, like he'd actually wait until morning.  
  
The worker raises an eyebrow as they say, "19," and that's good, that's on this floor, he can manage that.  
  
"Okay, and would you be able to point me in the direction of the bathrooms and a vending machine," and he follows the pointed finger and locks himself in the bathroom to form his plan. John isn't all that muscly, he can throw a punch, for sure. Maybe not up against hospital security but he's sure as hell gonna try.  
  
He leaves the bathroom and walks in the direction of the vending machine at the end of the hall, and makes sure the coast is clear before he starts his search for Room 19. He goes over possible excuses for why he's roaming the halls of a hospital in which visitor hours are over:  _I'm lost I was looking for the bathroom do you know where it is_ or  _my grandpa asked me to get a water for him and now I can't find my way back to his room_ and also, an incredibly thinly veiled  _I lost my way back to my room because there was a problem with the toilet there and I went to the one here._  
  
John suddenly realises there are, obviously, cameras lurking in the corners and so he does his best to keep his head turned down whilst keeping an eye on room numbers.  
  
When he finally makes it to the door that reads 19, all of the anxiety rushes back to him and his brain flips the switch of _Alex isn't okay is Alex gonna make i what am I gonna do without him what if I could've helped him why did I go to work today Alex is more important than anything why wasn't I there with him_  and he can barely bring himself to peek through the little window carved out of the wood door.  
  
Alexander lays there, looking sickly, eye bags and bruises all down his arms and blood and his nose looks fucked, and John doesn't know whether he should feel relief or despair. He doesn't know if Alex is okay what if Alex has to have surgery do they do that when someone overdoses what if he doesn't make it what if he died from snorting fucking coke and John can't think about it anymore but he doesn't know what to do he can't just barge into his boyfriend's hospital room and lay his head in the bed and sob as silently as he can, he's not in a goddamn movie. But maybe that's appropriate, maybe the sobs will wake Alex, maybe he'll wake up, maybe John can see his brown-near-black eyes again maybe he can see Alex again.  
  
John can't seem to open the door.  
  
His hand rests wrapped around the handle, and he's gone through the process of taking a deep breath and bracing himself to twist and force but he can't because what if all he faces is a lifeless corpse what if Alex is barely alive John doesn't think he can handle that.  
  
Maybe he should just wait, wait until 6 o'clock rolls around but the thought of Alex passing in his sleep nags at his brain until he twists the handle and pushes the door open and he doesn't even realise before he's stepped foot into the room and oh my god Alex is _here_  and Alex is _alive_  John can hear the _beep beep beep_  of the machine next to the bed and he wishes he could hear Alexander's voice, wishes he could see the look on his face when he's so engrossed in his work that nothing else exists besides the page and his fingers typing out the words as quick as the thought comes. John misses Alexander so much he wants him to be here, to be healthy, he wants him to be okay, he wants _him_.  
  
So John pulls the chair up close towards Alex's bed and rests his forehead on the scratchy sheets and he cries, and while he does his hand absentmindedly finds Alex's and he clasps them together and his thumb finds a pulse and that makes him cry more and he just wants to hear his voice, he just wants to know he's okay,  _please, God, let him be okay._  
  
  
John won't sleep, not until he knows Alex is alright, not until he knows he's woken up in the morning, not until he's okay.  
  
At  5 AM a doctor comes in the room and looks at him quizzically before readjusting Alex's tubes and his IV and leaves.  
  
At 6:03 another doctor comes and says "Are you John Laurens?" and he says _yes_  and they say "Were you here all night?" and he says _yes_  and they say "You know you're not supposed to do that, right?" and he says _yes_  and they say "You could get into serious trouble," and he says _I know_ but he really wants to say _I don't care Alexander matters more I don't care if I go to jail I need to know if Alex is okay can you tell me he's okay what do we do how can he get better please_ but all he says is _I know_ because he knows this doctor wouldn't understand.  
  
-  
  
It's been two days, an entire 36 hours since John got that call, since John ran to the hospital, since John snuck his way into Alexander's room, since John slept.  
  
It's been two days and John is drifting when he hears a grunt from above him and his brain registers it as _normal_  because Alex wakes up like this and - Alex is waking up!  
  
His heart jumps in his chest as Alex groans more and he wonders if he's okay, if he's in pain but he's _awake_. He's awake awake awake and he's not _not_. (John can't bear the thought anymore.)  
  
"Baby?" John says and his voice is hoarse and scratchy and barely there but Alexander turns his head and says in the same voice, "what happened? Why aren't we at home?" And John wants to cry because he doesn't remember, like it didn't happen, and he wishes it didn't.  
  
"You overdosed. You've been here for two days, just sleeping. The doctors didn't tell me much about what happened, but -"  
  
Alexander is suddenly sobbing and it's so much that he's gasping for air and John hears the _beep beep beep_  speed up and it's all he can do not to bring Alexander into his chest because of his tubes and his IV and it _hurts_ , not being able to comfort him. It hurts.  
  
"I'm sorry, I was bad, I know, I'm sorry, I'll be good I won't do it anymore I just wanted to be gone I didn't wanna stay please I'll be good please I'm sorry," the words tumble past Alexander's lips through the sobs and John then climbs into the bed and wraps his arms around Alex and smooths his hair and whispers _respira respira respira_  in his ear until the beep beep beep doesn't sound as alarming and Alex continues, says, "So bad I'm sorry John please don't leave I need you I'll be good I'll be so good please keep me please please you can punish me I deserve it please I'll be so good," and John responds similarly, "So good, you're so good baby you're so strong you made it I'm not going anywhere you don't get punished for this you're so good so good angel I'm never gonna leave you I'm right here," and Alexander thinks he'll never see the end of his tears.  
  
-  
  
When Alexander is finally safe to go home, John carries him into bed (leaving all his things from the hospital by the door), lays him down and climbs on top of him and whispers, "Echo me, okay?" and Alexander nods so John continues and says "You're so good," and looks up into Alex's eyes and nods the OK.  
  
The voice comes small but still comes as Alex whispers, "I'm so good."  
  
John presses his lips to Alex's cheek. "Such a good boy."  
  
The voice comes shy this time. "I'm a good boy."  
  
A kiss to the junction of neck and shoulder. "You don't get punished for these things."  
  
"I don't get punished for this."  
  
Another, to the right side of his chest. "You're so strong."  
  
"I'm so strong."  
  
"Such a good boy. So good. So, so good. My good boy."  
  
"Yours," Alex says, and it's pleading. "Please keep me."  
  
"So good."  
  
"I love you," Alexander says, lets the words hang in the air because he loves John and at this point he thinks he's always loved John.  
  
"Good," John whispers blissfully into Alexander's neck. Leaves a kiss. "I love you, angel."  
  
-  
  
Recovery feels like the hurricane, he thinks.  
  
There is never an Eye. If there was, he was there, that was his safe haven before but now it's been shredded by wind gusts and rain and it's past him.  
  
He wonders what his remains will be after the hurricane is over. He wonders if the hurricane will ever pass.  
  
"Nicotine patches," John says one day.  
  
"I'm not Sherlock Holmes, John."  
  
"No, baby, seriously. It's not like the e-vape shit but it's good and it could help. I know it was more weed than cigs but still. Please. Try it. For me."  
  
So Alexander says, "yes."  
  
"Good boy," John smiles and Alexander hums with the joy of it, with the praise, and maybe he can live with that. With John and his _good boy's_  and his _baby girl's_  and his touches.  
  
  
-  
  
"Hand the fucking stash over."  
  
"What are you talking about, John?" Alexander questions.  
  
"I can smell it. I'm not stupid, Alexander."  
  
So Alex reluctantly hands John the weed stash he'd kept hidden sandwiched between their bed and the wall.  
  
John catches Alexander with an unlit cigarette between his teeth as he's _recovering from top surgery, dammit._  That's not good, it could postpone his recovery and recovery on top of recovery is getting too long and John can't have it. He snatches the stick from in between Alex's lips and opens his hand and says, "Hand it over."  
  
Alex grunts, he wants to say no, he wants to be punished, but punishment for this is not as sweet. It's so fucking hard - and he wasn't even gonna light it -  
  
"I wasn't gonna light it," Alex finds himself murmuring as he stares at his shoes. "I don't even have a lighter anymore. You found all of them."  
  
"Watch your manners, baby girl. Hand it over."  
  
"John, no, wait -"  
  
"Baby girl -"  
  
"Red," Alex splutters out and John backs away.  
  
"Do you want me to leave?" John asks.  
  
"No," Alex says and he feels his cheeks heat up. "Just - not the name."  
  
"Okay, that's okay, Alex. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Alex mumbles. He pulls the pack of cigs out of his back pocket and hands it over to John. He feels uncomfortable, like he should call red on the whole ordeal but he _can't_  because this is _recovery_.  
  
  
-  
  
80 days sober and every day John wakes Alex up by singing the song by Childish Gambino. It gets a smile out of him, so John likes to think he isn't as annoyed by it as he acts.  
  
One day they're eating dinner with Alex sitting on the countertop and John leaning against it beside him when Alex asks, "what did you do when you found out I .... you know." Alex signs the word _overdosed_  and John awaits an OK, just to make sure, before he speaks.  
  
"I was at work, you know. Writing an email to Thomas Jefferson, of all people. They called me and asked me my name and said that you were in the hospital and that I was the only one on the emergency contact list. I ran there, like, on foot -"  
  
"Wait, you ran from the office?" Alex asks incredulously.  
  
"Yeah, baby," John says like it's the biggest deal in the world. "All for you," and he pokes at Alex's side as he says it and watches him squirm in delight.  
  
"They wouldn't let me see you because I wasn't a family member, which makes no sense because if I'm the only one on the emergency contact list you'd think they'd put two and two together and realise that I'm all you have. But anyway, they wouldn't let me in until 6 o'clock, so I snuck into your room and I didn't sleep for two days and then you woke up and you cried and I cried and we talked through all the gross snot until you were okay to go home. I worried about you so much. I thought - I thought you wouldn't make it."  
  
Alex turns his head down in shame. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't do it again," John says, and it isn't a threat. It's a plea, a cry. Alex mumbles his _yes, never again_  and only audibly says it just to hear John say, "good boy," and the words fall off of his tongue so sweetly Alex is reminded of honey.  
  
-  
  
  
Two years have passed since The Incident.  
  
Two years since Alexander overdosed.  
  
John says to him sometimes, "healthy looks good on you, baby," and Alexander smiles and keens into him.  
  
The nicotine patches are not a constant, not every day, only on bad ones. Alex goes through the same routine of patting down his pockets in search for a pack of cigs (in the end, he only smoked. No weed, no coke, no heroine, no adderall. Just the drag of a thin stick between his lips), and John fumbles around in the emergency kit they keep for each other and presses it into Alex's arm and then everything's okay.  
  
Alex has turned to coffee now - instead of the drugs and alcohol he downs 4 pots a day and at this point John isn't sure how his heart hasn't given out yet. But it's not the same - John isn't worried about him rotting from the inside out. So it's okay.  
  
One night after Alexander has shown John what he meant years ago by saying _I'm not Sherlock Holmes, John_ when he'd suggested nicotine patches, after a drawn out night of praises and whimpers and _green green green_  Alex is absentmindedly tracing his fingers across John's chest and says, "I don't think I would've done it."  
  
And John says _what, angel?_  because he's used to incoherent Alex, to 3 AM Alex, to the Alex who lets words spill out of his mouth before he even thinks.  
  
"Fucked up. Done drugs. Alcoholism. I wouldn't have done any of it if I knew you - like, I don't know, I don't think I would've been able to. To hurt you like that." And John says, "yeah?" because he wants to leave the door open for Alex, if he wants to continue speaking he'll open the gates to the road.  
  
"Yeah. When I came to New York I had no idea that - that everything was as serious as I would overhear on the neighbour's TV in my first apartment. I thought it was just fun and games, you know? On the island everything was fresh and natural and so it never hurt anybody, but then the hurricane came and everything hurt everybody and at that point I didn't even see anything, anyone shooting up. The spark died with the town."  
  
John hums.  
  
"I wouldn't have fucked up if I knew. I would've been good." And John whispers _so good_  into his neck and kisses where the words linger.  
  
"I love you," Alex says again but he doesn't give John room for a response.  
"I - the city was the highest place in my dreams - like heaven. _Nueva York._  That was the only place outside of Nevis. There was no America."  
  
John says, "I'm glad you got out."  
  
"I would've died if I hadn't met you. I meant what I said, John. I wanted to die and I couldn't because of _you_. I wouldn't have done any of the shit I have if I knew I'd meet you."  
  
And John says, "I love you." Because he does - he really does. John loves Alexander so much he doesn't know what he'd have done if Alexander - if he died. John thinks that Alexander stole a piece of his heart, took it and stored it in his - he'll always have a part of John. John loves Alexander so much, and he never thought he'd find something like this. Something so unconditional. John has never doubted his love for Alexander. He thinks he'll love him even if both of them are gone. John loved Alex through his toughest time - and times will be tougher. John doesn't doubt it (as much as Alexander loves praise, he loves punishment just as much). If John knew he would have met Alexander when he was scrawny and starving - if John knew he'd meet Alexander - his father wouldn't have mattered. Nothing would have mattered, so long as he had Alexander.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! 
> 
> this took me a very long time to write and i'm really proud of the way it turned out so please let me know if you enjoyed it as well!
> 
> i always shy around substance abuse because i never want to romantacise it or make it seem like the user's partner/s "fixes" them because that's just a really fucking annoying mentality, for anything. 
> 
> (side note when your partner/s calls red (or safewords) you should definitely talk to them about it!!! communication is key!!! please check in with your significant other/s!!!)
> 
> also, title and based on the song if i knew by bruno mars! (i cant hyperlink in notes. youtube it.)
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!


End file.
